The Chains That Bind Him
by theditz83
Summary: Years after the nightmares of the Hunger Games, Peeta finds himself thrown into a new hell that unlocks memories and feelings that he believed he had drowned in the depths of his mind forever. Does he have the strength to fight through the pain one last time, or will he find himself permanently paralysed by the chains that bind him to the past?


Peeta's head swung in drunk circles as he fought to regain control of his neck muscles again. The foggy haze left by the unknown drug that had floored him lingered menacingly in his brain, causing his eyelids to remain stubbornly lethargic. As he gradually worked his way around his body, sensing the muscles that were and weren't yet alert, his attention was instantly drawn to the tight tugging sensation in both shoulders. He had only ever felt that feeling once before – back in the Capitol torture rooms where they fought to re-program his brain. The mere thought of those fractious weeks – or were they months? – still chilled his spine and often triggered those crippling flashbacks that froze his body into stone until he was able to talk himself back around to reality.

He lifted his groggy gaze towards the massive room that spread out before him and couldn't immediately recognise anything his eyes perceived from any past memories. The room had the appearance of a large banquet hall, with stones cladding every surface from the worn floor beneath him to the towering vaulted roof some 50 feet in the air. His neck cricked loudly as he tried to scan the tattered tapestries that hung from flagpoles at regimented intervals along either side of the room. This place was clearly too old to be located within the Capitol itself, but the faded colours and symbols from the old banners gave him no further clues as to where his miserable luck had now landed him.

_How did I even get here?_, he thought, trying to pull himself up from the slouched lean that he'd adopted against the cold stone wall. Immediately, the burn from the rusting chains sliced through the already shredded skin around his wrists, and he hissed wildly through clenched teeth before letting a gasp of slight desperation escape from his chapped lips. His torn cotton shirt was spotted with blood stains as he surveyed his aching body, and he was somewhat alarmed to find his prosthetic limb missing. The drugs had numbed the lower half of his body to such a degree that he still had little feeling from the waist down, hence the reason that he had to lean on the wall to stop his fragile forearms taking the full weight of his body.

He panted heavily as his head shot to his left and then to his right, before finally clocking his shoe attached to the bionic limb propped up against a scarred sandstone pillar just a few metres from where he was chained. _What weirdo is behind all this?_, his brain pondered, before his ears pricked up at the click of a door latch echoing from the opposite end of the hallway. It seemed that he wouldn't have to wait too long to find out the answer to his last question.

As the figure entered the hall, the sharp crack of heels on stone instantly told Peeta that it was a woman. The poor light inside the dusty hall made it difficult to pick out anything at the opposite end, but still he strained hard to try and decipher just who the shadowy visitor could be. Her footsteps were slow and steady, echoing loudly around every wall and filling Peeta with a sense of dread that intensified with each reverberation. He quickly stopped trying to uncover the identity of the mystery woman in the dark and instead started staring intensely at a single shaft of sunlight that was streaming in through a broken stained-glass window high above his head on the right-hand wall. He estimated that she must be only 7 or 8 steps away from entering that light, and he prayed that he would then at least know who was responsible for inflicting this new hell on him.

But he was to have no such luck just yet, as a step or two short of the yellowy streak of brilliant light, the mystery woman came to an abrupt stop. Peeta re-adjusted his weary eyes towards the shadows once again and could vaguely make out the silhouette standing with a hand casually resting on her left hip as the other hand moved towards her lips. After a few moments of excruciating silence, Peeta was given his first chance to unmask the lady.

"Hmmmm," she rasped, her voice youthful but with a gravelly texture that suggested a nicotine addiction. "This won't do at all. You still look far too comfortable, with not enough tears flowing down those soft cheeks." Each consonant that dripped from her lips sizzled and sparked through the air like flares or bullets being fired from a loaded gun, and Peeta was the clear target for every shot.

He strained once again, wishing his vision would pick out something unique about the person that stood some 15 metres in front of him. But still, he was clueless as to her identity. He swallowed hard, grimacing at the rough streak of pain that ran along his parched throat.

"Wh...who are you?" he stuttered, unable to inject any sense of conviction or force into his voice. He sounded like a lost little boy praying that his parents would find him and take him back home. But that could never happen again – Snow had made sure of that.

The mystery woman laughed menacingly before continuing her march towards the wall where Peeta was detained, only rather than walking straight ahead, she now chose to follow the diagonal line painted on the stone floor by the sunlight, clearly hoping to prolong his agony and increase the suspense just a little longer. When she spoke again, her voice was firm and mocking.

"You mean you don't recognise me? All those months we spent together; sharing so much, learning to trust one another, and you forget me almost in the blink of an eye?" Her footsteps stopped as her body swivelled and she strode confidently into the piercing light. Peeta's eyes instantly widened to the size of golf balls and he couldn't stop the shocked gasp bursting from his mouth. His reaction was greeted with a smug and threatening grin from the woman.

"Kyra," Peeta gasped, the hairs on the back of his stiff neck and his aching arms standing to attention at the sight of her. "I... I thought you were..."

"... dead?" Kyra finished, smirking as she traced the path of the glittering sunlight with her steps, never narrowing her electric blue eyes from Peeta's pained and confused face. "Well, lucky for you, I'm very much alive. And I can't tell you how happy I am that I have my little baker-boy back."

Peeta grimaced at the memories flashing into his consciousness. Images of a confused and frightened boy being manipulated by a girl who he thought was his friend and his confidante. A girl who was there to protect him and help him piece together the fragments of his broken mind into some kind of semblance of order. But it had all been lies.

Kyra had been one of the rehabilitation workers who had been tasked by Snow's regime to brainwash Peeta after he was snatched from the inferno that engulfed the arena of the Third Quarter Quell. She would first gain his trust through family photos and cherished childhood memories, before she began the defamation of Katniss' character. Every positive memory relating to her that he would put forward was instantly torn apart with an electric shock, a crack of her leather whip or a tightening of the ropes on his wrists and ankles.

_Katniss used you, Peeta_, she would tell him, in her soothing and seductive voice. _She never loved you. I was all just for the cameras._

Kyra's only mistake in the whole time that she was in charge of Peeta's sham of a rehabilitation was that she got too close. Peeta could still vividly recall the night that she called in to his cell while he was still sedated and lying flat out on the padded table, his wrists in steel cuffs that chafed his skin. She had walked over to him, her eyes framed with gentle peach eye-shadow and her lips shining under the harsh medical spotlights, and she had cradled his face with both hands. "Why do you listen to me so intently Peeta? Why don't you do more to fight?"

Peeta remembered the brief moment of confusion before he responded assuringly. "Because I have no reason to fight you. I trust you Kyra," he had said, before she leaned in slowly and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

As she had pulled away, she uttered a phrase that would light a spark in Peeta's head that gathered intensity in the following months. She said, "I can't believe you don't remember," before abruptly stopping and pursing her lips. Before Peeta could ask her anything else, she had swiftly spun around and exited the room, but as luck would have it – and thanks to the actions of Snow and the District 13 team, especially Katniss – he did gradually start to remember, which in turn meant that he slowly and painfully began to understand the deceit and evil, bitter lies that Kyra had dripped into his brain like cyanide.

Now, standing in this dirty, dilapidated old castle (Peeta had decided that it must be one of the old fortifications in the hills of District 2 that Effie had been so excited to point out during the Victory Tour), he could see her for the manipulative and cruel human being that she truly was, and he wished that he could find the super-human strength to break free from the shackles that tied him to the wall so that he could destroy her just like she had tried to destroy him.

She continued her agonising march forwards, closing the gap between them until she stood so close that Peeta could smell her over-powering perfume. He tried to nuzzle into his shirt in a vain attempt to block the scent from his senses; the memories that could be snatched from the locked vaults deep within his mind were things that he didn't want haunting his consciousness again. He had to remain alert and ready to fight – just like he had done in the Games.

Kyra grabbed his chin and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, twisting his head up until he was staring directly into those sky blue eyes. The smirk that had been painted on her face ever since she had stepped into the light was now turning a bit darker as she surveyed his flushed and tired face.

"My poor helpless Peeta," she taunted, petting her bottom lip. "How have you coped without me?"

Peeta saw red and instinctively spat into Kyra's face, causing her to yelp and step back momentarily. "I've been just fine without you, you manipulative bitch!" he hissed, feeling the spurts of adrenaline fill his veins and invigorate his aching body into action.

Kyra wiped her hands across her face in disgust before straightening her red and black corset and striding forward, the fire in her eyes blazing angry licks of flames that dulled the beauty of the azure blue within.

"Oh dear, we do have a temper, don't we?" she mused, running the back of her finger down his cheek and mirroring the motion with her tongue on her top lip. Peeta was savvy to all of her little tricks now, and yet he found it hard to look away. "I think someone needs to be reminded just how much they owe me..." she continued, turning her finger around and carving a deep gash down the length of his cheek with her scarlet fingernail.

Peeta groaned at the stinging pain taking over the left-hand side of his face, but he couldn't let her win this easily. "It'll take more than that to break me again Kyra," he seethed, trying to force his face as far into her personal space as he dared. "I'm stronger now than you might remember." A tiny trickle of blood was oozing down his chin now to join the blood-stains already on his shirt. He still had no idea how they had got there, and right now he didn't care to ponder on that.

Kyra chuckled mockingly. "Aw, Peeta. You really believe that? You think that I spent all those months with you without gaining an understanding of just how to destroy your mind? I have made you who you are today, and I can just as quickly un-make you."

Peeta swallowed hard, and felt his eyelids flutter nervously. But he maintained a stoic stance as he responded bitterly, "You can't hurt me now Kyra. I'll never let you in ever again. Katniss is my one true love and you'll never take her place because you're a liar, and a manipulator and..."

He trailed off as his eyes were distracted by Kyra's arms snaking behind her back and pulling an object from beneath her thick leather belt that tightened his throat and dilated his pupils in fearful anticipation of what was about to happen. She teasingly ran the cat o' nine tails through her fist, letting the frayed strands of leather ripple menacingly against her hand. Her eyes started to sparkle once again as she sensed the tension course through Peeta's body.

"And...?" she drawled. "Don't let me stop you sweetie." She let out a smug snigger as she reached up towards Peeta's neck. Her talon-like nails glinted like blood-stained daggers and Peeta flinched at the sight of them reaching towards his throat. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he found her grabbing his shirt collar.

"This just won't do, you looking so tatty. And my cat can't really inflict the same level of pain against cotton, y'know?" she said, rubbing the grubby collar of his shirt between fingers before reaching up with her other hand – which still clutched the torturous weapon – and ripping the garment from his torso. Peeta clenched his teeth and snapped his head awkwardly to the side, almost like he was trying to wish away the evil reality that was unfolding in front of him. The beads of sweat on his temples were trickling slowly down his cheeks, and his breathing was becoming quicker and more shallow as the panic took hold.

Kyra's grin was enormous now that she could see Peeta's bare chest. "Aaaah, now that's better. You've been working out, Peeta, haven't you?" she stated, nodding at the sight that befell her eyes. "There's just one little problem," she continued, reaching out with her free hand and running her soft fingers down the length of his chest, over his subtle abs and around his belly button. "There's just far too much perfection on show here, and not enough pain. Not _nearly_ enough pain."

Almost instantly, she brandished the whip in her right hand and swung it wildly in wide arc, sending the numerous vicious leather tongues lashing onto Peeta's smooth torso. He yelped loudly, hearing his desperate cries rebounding off the stone walls and into his brain. Another crack of the whip painted a deep pink scar horizontally across his breastbone, and he felt his leg buckling slightly. The chains around his wrists were still unyielding, and the rust scratched agonisingly against the raw skin beneath them. He felt completely alert, and yet he seemed to have completely lost control of his emotions and body resulting in painful tears gushing from the sides of his terrified eyes.

"Please...Kyra," he begged, gasping a little in between words as he tried to catch his breath. "Please stop!"

Kyra sniggered confidently, continuing her attack with the cat o' nine tails. Each excruciating snap made Peeta's skin burn that little bit more, and he glanced down to find some of the streaks of red breaking into cuts on his pale skin. He let out screams, not really in the hope that anyone would be able to come to his rescue but more to try and release some of the awful pain that was flooding through his body. The only thing keeping any semblance of normality in his mind was the fact that this was a pain that he knew he could probably withstand, especially considering what he had been subjected to in the past by his current attacker. This pain was only physical – it couldn't give him the terrifying nightmares that still haunted him from time to time.

"You're sick, you know that?" Peeta said in a shaky and broken voice. "Do you get off seeing me like this? I thought you cared for me more than that."

Kyra briefly stopped her series of attacks on his aching chest to consider what he'd just said. Behind the anger and power that had taken over her model-like features, Peeta sensed a moment of weakness and he jumped at the chance of trying to ruin her focus on his torture. "You helped me so much Kyra. I had no idea who I was after the Quarter Quell, but you gave me a goal and a reason to keep breathing." Peeta swallowed hard, hoping that the words leaving his mouth had sounded more convincing than they had sounded in his scrambled brain.

As she wandered slowly to the left of Peeta, Kyra glanced down at the weapon in her hand before snapping her head back to the scarred and raw body hanging from the wall in front of her. "Peeta... you used me. You played me for a fool, telling me that you cared and that you needed me, while all the time..." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, blinking hard, before continuing. "All the time you were just waiting for a moment to get back with that little slut with the crossbow!"

Peeta's hands tightened into fists at the sound of her vindictive description of Katniss. More than anything, he wished that she was here right now. She had already saved him so many times in the past, but he would give anything to have her help him one last time.

"Did you ever love me?" Kyra asked, narrowing her eyes towards him in a look of resignation that suggested she had already figured out the answer to that question for herself.

He was torn between giving the honest response – _No, you evil little bitch. I was sick and confused and you manipulated me into thinking I needed you –_ and continuing the sweet-talking that would hopefully save him from further physical torture at her vicious hands.

In the end, he opted for the safer option, as his body was feeling more broken than it had done in a long time. "I cared very deeply for you Kyra. You helped me to trust again, and taught me how to feel positive emotions after being lost in a nightmare of anger and pain."

Kyra blinked and nodded a little while once again running her whip through her hand. Peeta's jaw tensed again, but he tried to maintain a soft warmth to his gaze. It was so difficult to look so fondly at a person who he hated so deeply.

"Please, Kyra," Peeta said soothingly, "un-chain me, and we can talk properly about this. You surely can't enjoy hurting me like this."

Kyra lowered the whip to her side and tilted her head, almost like she was listening to something inside her head. For all Peeta knew, she could have serious mental problems – no normal person would take such great pleasure in inflicting such physical and emotional pain on the man she supposedly loved.

She turned to face him again, staring intently into his glistening eyes. He had managed to stop the tears, but the exhaustion from standing on the hard stone floor with no real support from his arms due to the corroding chains ripping his arms to shreds was intense and he was growing more weary with each breath that he took.

Eventually, after what seemed like minutes of tense silence, Kyra threw an unexpected question in Peeta's direction. "So, how's the family, Peeta?" she asked, so matter-of-factly.

His eyes shot open and his brow creased in anger and confusion. "My... my family?" he stuttered, unsure of where she was even trying to steer him now. He felt so weak and wished he was resting in his bed with Katniss' arms encircling him, feeling her soft warm kisses on his forehead.

"Yeah, your family back in 12. Are they okay?" Kyra's face looked so dead-pan, so innocent but Peeta was utterly convinced that she knew exactly what had happened to District 12 after the revolt. Annihilation and assassination – the sign of a regime that had lost control and could think of no other way to stem the flow of hatred from its own people than to obliterate them from the face of the planet. Peeta's family hadn't stood a chance when the bombs fell.

"You know," Peeta muttered, choking a little on the words as he tried to avoid provoking another violent lashing from Kyra.

"I'm sorry? I couldn't quite hear that, Peeta. I asked you..."

Peeta's face flashed crimson and his composure cracked quicker than Kyra's whip lashing off his tender skin. "I heard you, you sick bitch! You killed them – murdered them all!" he screamed wildly, trying to throw his body forward towards where Kyra was now standing grinning once again. The chains clattered noisily and the deep burns that shot down the length of Peeta's arms to his weakened body snatched what little breath he had away and made him gag from the pain and sense of desperation that was seeping into every molecule of his being.

Kyra strode forward again, tossing the whip on the floor below Peeta and grabbing his chest, her lips pressed tightly against his ear. "They deserved everything they got. You and your floozy Katniss betrayed the Capitol with your ridiculous escape plan, and someone had to pay the consequence for that. How does it feel to be the reason that your whole family is now... dead?"

That last word crashed into Peeta's head like an incendiary bomb, and he found his body buckle from the return of all those feelings of guilt and anguish that he'd worked so hard for so long to overcome. Kyra supported his weight momentarily with her hand planted firmly on his chest. Peeta twisted his head to face her again, but he had lost the ability to form any words in his aching throat.

Kyra leaned in, brushing her crimson red lips against his, before biting down on his bottom lip. Peeta moaned painfully, but this merely spurred her on as she tightened her grip on his chest and sunk her nails into the fresh scars that she had carved across his chest. Peeta thrashed uncontrollably as the pain sparked in his head, and he knew that there would be no easy escape from this new hell.

Leaning back slightly, Kyra slapped Peeta square on his flushed cheek, causing his head to swing wildly to the side. "You're going to have to learn to respect me, Peeta," she warned, dragging his face back towards hers. "You wouldn't want to end up like the rest of your family now, would you?"

His eyes were losing focus as the strength from his body continued to ebb away like rainwater down a storm-drain. He thought that he was shaking his head at her, but he couldn't be completely sure that the signals from his brain were reaching the muscles that they should.

"I think it's time that I reminded you of some home truths. Maybe that might focus your mind on what's really important," she stated, before marching off to Peeta's right and disappearing into a arched doorway behind him.

The blood now seeping from the sores on his wrists under the chains was running in rivers down his arms. He wondered if he might bleed to death, or perhaps his heart might stop first from some kind of poisoning from the rust that must be in his bloodstream by now. He wondered if he should perhaps start to say his own goodbyes to Katniss in his head, but he shook the thought of never seeing her again from his mind. That was a step too far, even in his current confused and fragile state.

His senses were startled by the crackle of audio static before he heard the Capitol fanfare trumpeting around the massive hall. He shot a confused and desperate look around the vaulted ceiling trying to see where the music was coming from, but it seemed to be seeping out of every rock and crack that formed the fabric of the building that was becoming his prison.

A voice started talking over the muted music now. The soft tones and neutral timbre of the words that pierced Peeta's skull were painfully familiar. "Katniss," he whispered, closing his eyes and fighting to stop the fearful tears escaping from his aching eyes.

The words that echoed around the walls were like poison in Peeta's mind, as after each sound-bite edited from the two Hunger Games that had been broadcast to the whole of Panem, came the calm and measured words of comfort from Kyra. _Trust me... on the count of three?, _Katniss said as she had placed the nightlock in his hand. _She never intended to eat those berries Peeta, _Kyra interjected. _She was trying to kill you!_

Peeta shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the hurtful and confused memories from his brain, but he could already feel them finding the old memories implanted by the Capitol in the past and taking over his consciousness. He thrashed his arms one last time in a vain attempt to free his wrists so that he could cover his ears and stop the madness descending, but it was no good.

Kyra was intent on re-programming his brain into detesting Katniss once again, and there was nothing he could do about it but scream and hope that he would wake up from this nightmare.


End file.
